Written In Blood
by harrowed94
Summary: Jowan and Finn Surana discover a manual on blood magic, and begin experimenting with the forbidden art at once. Finn's resulting guilt begins to haunt him, while Jowan faces external, personal conflicts. A new twist on the Magi Origin story. R&R.
1. Chapter 1

_This is the opening prologue to _Written In Blood_, my latest and first Dragon Age fanfiction. I do not own Dragon Age or anything related to it. This is, however, my own, original fanfiction, and any characters I created myself belong to me._

_Also, keep note that this is a bit of a twist on the Magi Origin story - what if the Surana character had also secretly dabbled in blood magic, but not to the same extent as Jowan, and also felt a little guilty for it? Enjoy. 3_

Finn Surana laughed.

There he stood - a good 25 feet above the ground, he feet set upon the rooftop of a city chantry, under the glowing Thedas moon. He roared with laughter, and the treble of his maniacal began to increase ever so slightly as he caught sight of a unit of templars from the Circle Tower.

"Playing tag, are we?" Finn cackled.

Knight-Commander Germaine did not weld her sword nor her shield, but a lone, greave-armored hand.

"If you surrender now, Surana," she began, "the Circle will allow the templars to give you a slow, yet painless death," She gently placed her arm by her side, hesitated, and continued: "under the custody and watch of the Circle templars and mages."

Finn snorted, and then began his melody of raging laughter once more. "Of course, under the custody of you and your holiness - giving me sympathy in the name of the Maker, are you? Thinking that perhaps you could have a little threesome with Him and Andraste?

"I know how you are, Germaine - I've seen everything with my two eyes." Finn gestured to his head with a filthy grin, and finally noticed his hand - how wrinkled and aged it looked. He used the gentle radiance of the moonlight to study it even further. It looked as if though he was wearing a glove made from twisted and sliced human skin, and he couldn't get over how dark - how _tan_ - it was. Or, was it more of a… Red? Yes, red… Dark red, like human blood…

Blood.

A thin wave of guilt began to rise over Finn, just as Germaine started to unveil her longsword from its sleeve. A sneer was involuntarily forming on her face as her thoughts raced throughout her Maker-devoted mind: _Nobody - and I mean, nobody - mocks my bond with the Maker._

"C-Commander-" one of the templars stuttered.

Germaine touched of the tip of the frightened templar's throat with her sword, causing his fear to escalate. "Don't tell me you already forgot what the Senior Enchanter told you?"

Without waiting for a reply, Germaine repeated the last of the instructions she was given from the First Enchanter before she left the Tower: _"If he passes up on the offer, don't give it a second thought - just be sure to bring back a body."_

She turned quickly to speak to Finn, but atop the city chantry he was no longer. Germaine gritted her teeth, and ordered her unit to search for the corrupted mage - even if it was the last thing they would do.

Finn continued to run through the forest of evergreens and oaks, his mind racing at the same pace as his legs and feet. It was either death, or live as an apostate - and truly, he would easily give up either if another choice somehow existed, but he knew well enough to know there was none.

Finn's legs slowed to a sprint, and slowly decreased to a moderate walk. He was out of breath, but he did not seem as fatigued as he usually would be. He wondered if this was perhaps caused by his seemingly never-ending source of adrenaline from the templars' assualt - but he never would have even thought this much energy even existed within him.

Eventually, the sight of a pond in the near distance distracted him from these very thoughts. Keeping the same slow pace, he made his way to the edge, and sat on a decrepit tree trunk in the process of decomposition. As he sat, Finn noticed the bottom hem of his apprentice robes - the varying rips and tears, and one large slit on the right. He did nothing but sigh and lean towards the edge of the water to get a drink.

There, in his reflection, he saw his worst nightmare - the becoming of a nightmare himself.

Finn saw his prominent hazel eyes enlarge as he examined his appearance - the same twisted suit of skin that covered his own, with no retrace of the pale, yet perfectly white complexion he once had. His appearance that was once innocent, had transformed, and along the way, taken away all of the innocence he once had - the purity that many fail to find within the majority of the magi population.

Then, in the distance, he could hear the voice of Germaine calling his name: "Finn! Finn!"

Finn Surana - surrounded by the templars and his nearing fate - was an abomination.


	2. Chapter 2

"Finn!"

Finn felt some unknown pressure pulling him towards the ground, and soon enough, he was lying facedown in the mud next to the edge of the pond. Whether the pressure was external or somewhere within was beyond his comprehension at this point, for he was slowly dozing off to the calls of the name given to him at birth.

"Finn, Finn! Wake up!"

He didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to lay his eyes upon the templars, and allow them to lead him to his dreaded fate. He didn't want the First Enchanter to scan his appearance with disappointment lingering in his eyes as he would continuously mutter condolences, in between intermissions of "I'm very disappointed in you, Finn."

He didn't want to face the consequences of what he had done.

He had given himself over to the demons that resided in the Fade, waiting to devour any vulnerable mages willing to improve their strengths, and rid of their weaknesses - all in the name of magic. He was a psychotic problem child, and he knew it. Finn only had himself to blame.

However, it was only he who knew the climax that lead up to this series of events.

Blood.

Delicious. Candy-apple red. Dripping.

Oozing.

The Forbidden School.

"I-I dabbled…" Finn muttered.

Suddenly, a familiar voice rang close to Finn's left ear: "What?"

And in that moment, Finn's eyes opened, and he no longer saw the mud that was once blanketing the porcelain complexion upon his face; he could no longer see the endless ocean of trees beyond the edge of the pond of which near he slept. He could, however, make out a familiar, human face that seemed to be floating directly in front of his own - light skin (a bit darker than Finn's own shade; maybe a tint of tan ivory), dark eyes, five o'clock shadow, and various strands of black locks dangling freely around it.

"Maker's breath, Jowan," Finn muttered as he abruptly sat up in his bunk.

"I'm sorry, Finn - I just heard that they brought you back in after you had passed out in the library, and I just wanted to make sure that they didn't overlook anything," Jowan explained in one, hurried breath, "I-I thought you were dead!"

"Take it easy, Jowan. Relax," Finn said as his temper began to cool off, slowly dwindling, like a melting block of ice exposed to the hot sun. Finn knew that he could never be mad at Jowan - there was always his disposition that seemed to ease the situation.

"I'm sorry, Finn," Jowan said, looking at Finn as he rested his arms at his sides. "I just… Worry, that's all."

"I know," Finn replied, feeling that sense of home he had always felt with his trusted partner-in-crime. "I know you do."

"And I wouldn't know what to do if the only other member of the guild just suddenly… Well, you know." Jowan crossed his arms and lifted his gaze a little. "Passed away."

Finn smirked, and slowly, an audible laugh that could be heard throughout the apprentice quarters rang out of his mouth. This left Jowan at a slight state of confusion, and he uncrossed his arms.

"I'm sorry, Jowan," Finn said. "You just looked slightly ridiculous, acting like you had some sort of authority over me."

"Authority over you? Come on!" Jowan grinned.

Finn reciprocated a smile, and got up from his bunk. Jowan occupied the one just above him - just like always, ever since they were children and were fresh to the Circle Tower. The two mages started to make their way out of the quarters as they continued their conversation.

"You know you're just so much _better_ than I am, especially at…," Jowan hesitated for a moment. "At… Oh, sod it, I don't know, just, everything."

Finn disagreed. "That's not true, Jowan, and you know it." They had been over this nearly a couple dozen times; Finn had lost count at 17.

"Well, look at you! I mean, they've already scheduled the date of your Harrowing, and me? I've still got a long ways to go - my Harrowing hasn't even been _considered_ yet!"

Finn looked a Jowan briefly, then to the floor. Finn observed the tips of his leather Fade Striders as they peeked out of the bottom hem of his robes as he walked, touching the stone floors. "Oh, I'm sure it has," He said with full honesty, "They probably just haven't gotten around to letting you know about it yet."

"Yes, well…," Jowan started, "I don't know, Finn. I guess I could be just jealous of you."

"Admit it," Finn smirked once more.

"I hope that's all it is, Finn," Jowan continued. "It's just, I've been in the Apprentice quarters for what seems like forever."

"Everyone feels like that at some point, Jow. Think about it - no privacy from the templars, eventless training, classes, and mentoring everyday, and being reminded of the Rite of Tranquility," Finn nodded to Owain, caretaker of the Circle Stockroom and one of the powerless Tranquil that lived in the tower, as they passed the entryway to the storage room, and could hear Jowan shuddering.

"You have a point, Finn, but…,"

Finn glanced at him. "But what?"

"Never mind, it's nothing. I'm just pestering you - c'mon, let's head to the library."

Both mages started sprinting through the long, templar-ridden corridors, ignoring the shouts of the mentors and soldiers, and snickering the entire way.

"_Psst, Finn… Hey, Finn…"_

_Finn's eyes fluttered open, and, after shoving his red-orange locks out of the way, continuously began to rub them. "Dear Maker, what is it, Jowan?" Finn whispered irritably._

"_I found something that could help us get our Harrowings," Jowan replied. Finn clenched his right fist, and conjured a flame that lit the candle on his bedside table. He then turned his head toward the direction of the whisper, and could see Jowan's long, dark hair dangling from the above bunk, his eyes and the top end of a book barely visible against the candlelight._

"_This," Jowan said, exposing the book even further. Finn, now wide awake, stretched out his arm as far as he could without sitting up, accepted the book, and held it up against the light. He could just barely make out the title - _Blood Magic: A Manual of the Forbidden Art.

_Finn skimmed throughout the book, and words such as "life force," "mind-control," "sacrifice" and "blood-letting" somehow seemed to illuminate upon the page, as if though they were written in a larger size than the other words that were scattered around them._

"_Jowan, do you realize what this is?" Finn said._

"_I know damn well what it is, Finn," Jowan replied._

"_This could get us killed."_

"_This could make us corrupted."_

"_This could make the templars want our asses."_

_Finn looked up at Jowan. The candlelight gave his face a calm, friendly glow, but there something devilish lingering in his eyes. As Finn stared into them, he realized that Jowan almost looked corrupted already._

_In the library, Jowan eyed Finn suspiciously as he tried to reach for a thick, plum-colored volume from one of the higher shelves; due to his elven heritage and his particular height from genetics, Finn began to grow increasingly annoyed with his unrewarding attempts, even after he retrieved a stool and stood upon it. However, as if though some unseen force perceived Finn's need for assistance, his former mentor, Vivian, appeared to help. She was a human, who possessed a complexion that resembled coffee containing lots of cream, and luscious midnight locks that reached the top of her rear, which only increased the possibility of noticing her asset. Her eyes twinkled and she couldn't resist a chuckle when she reached for the hefty, leather-bound book._

"_Congratulations on your Harrowing, hon," She said, handing the volume to Finn. Her voice resembled that one moment of relief when you step into a tub of hot water in a cold room - soothing, yet enticing, and maybe even dangerous. She hesitated for a moment, and then turned her head slightly, pretending to focus her attention on a bubbling cauldron that was currently being occupied by an apprentice of potions. Perhaps she could cover her noticeable shyness. "I know you will make it out safely."_

_Finn laughed. "Oh, I haven't done it yet, Vivian, but I will not doubt your opinion. You're one of the best mentors in the tower. Even Irving has said so himself, rewarding you with that plaque that you're always polishing and gazing upon." He added a suave smile to accompany his teasing - though he felt no sense of sensual attraction whatsoever to his mentor. Not only did the fact that relationships were forbidden in the Circle ease any feelings that had the possibility of blooming, but Finn loved flirting too much to even consider an affair._

_Vivian's cheeks turned a very light tint of pink that looked very noticeable, but also quite lovely on her complexion. _


End file.
